


Last Friday Night

by alovelylittlescandal



Category: West Wing
Genre: Angst, M/M, Poor Sam, josh blames tequila, josh can't catch a break, sex scandals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2012-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-03 16:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/383355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alovelylittlescandal/pseuds/alovelylittlescandal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'You kissed me, not the other way around.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Friday Night

“Don’t do these things,” Leo grouses. “I don’t know why you always feel the need to do these things!”

It’s 7:30 AM on Monday morning, and Josh is standing in front of Leo’s desk. He keeps his hands folded in front of him, and a carefully penitent look on his face. _Supplication_ , he thinks furiously. _Supplication_.

“C.J. told me to tell you,” he says.

“Now I’m going to have to—“Leo stops himself. He shakes his head. “I can’t even look at you right now.”

“I’m sorry, Leo,” says Josh, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. They both know he’s lying.

“I don’t want to hear it, Josh!” Leo exhales. “Send Sam in, will you?”

Josh opens his mouth as though he has more to say, but he seems to recognize that Leo isn’t likely to be a very warm recipient. He slinks away from Leo, trying not to seem cowed, feeling uneasy all the same. The hallways aren’t crowded and he’s free to walk without getting interrupted by morning greetings. He raps on the closed door of Sam’s office. The blinds are drawn. C.J. pokes her head out. She’s carefully holding the door next to her face, as though Josh will try to bully his way past her. He can’t even see Sam.

“I thought I told you to talk to Leo!” she says, sounding exasperated.

“I did!” Josh snaps defensively.

“Go talk to him some more. I’m not finished with Sam here.”

“Don’t be too hard on him. Leave something for Leo to chew on.”

“If you continue to be this cavalier, I’ll be forced to consider the notion that our lectures didn’t have the desired effect.”

“I don’t think we deserved to be lectured for what we did. There was nothing wrong with it.”

C.J. closes her eyes. “So help me, Josh—“

“I’m going, I’m going.”

Josh scurries away towards his office. Sam’s door slams shut. He winces.

“Josh—“

The wince turns into a full-blown groan. “Donna, I’m not in the mood for whatever comment you have to offer.”

“I wasn’t going to offer a comment,” Donna says, stung. “I was going to offer you a muffin, but I guess you don’t want it.”

“A muffin? How is that going to help me?”

“It’s a free muffin, Josh. You don’t say no to a free muffin.”

“I don’t want the free muffin.”

“Okay.” Donna shrugs.

He stares at her, suddenly and irrationally angry by her nonchalance. “Actually, I changed my mind. I want the muffin.”

“Muffin window’s closed, Josh.”

“I didn’t want it anyway,” he says crossly, and stalks down the hallway, hoping that she won’t follow him.

“Too sad for muffins? What has the world come to?”

“I just...” He waves a hand impatiently, unable to articulate his frustration. He hates being at a loss for words. He’s never this stupid.

“Well…” Donna flanks him, and stands in front of him, preventing him from moving past her. She peers slyly up at him. “I thought it was pretty sexy, what you and Sam did.”

“I’ve got work to do!” Josh barks, striding away from Donna. In the complete opposite direction of his office.

He walks purposefully through the hallway, his mind on everything other than navigation. Bouncing from Friday night to Sam to Leo’s furious face to headlines tomorrow to what Bartlet would say. To composing his resignation letter. Some people might not see anything wrong with what Josh did. But most of those people didn’t hold a majority share of popular opinion.

It takes Josh three tries to find his office. He shuts the door behind himself, throwing his back against the door. Clearly the moral of this lesson is to never have tequila again. Ever. He thinks desperately, briefly, of looking at want ads for jobs, and then shuts the thought away. The White House will stand behind him.

Josh spends the rest of the day hiding from everyone with the door locked. This doesn’t deter his phone from ringing off the hook or his inbox from piling up with URGENT subject lines. Most of them, unsurprisingly enough, seem to be from secretaries. He deletes them all—even the ones with monetary offers. He’s not that kind of guy, except for the part where he is. He knows that Sam isn’t though.

Argh, Sam. _Sam_. Josh paces back and forth, hand grabbing at the collar of his shirt. He’s been so consumed with everything, he hasn’t even…

The doorknob wiggles furiously.

“Important meeting!” Josh shouts, putting on his jacket. He pats his hair cautiously and straightens his tie. This is a stupid tie, it’s his Wednesday tie and it’s Monday and Jesus Christ, _he’s losing his mind_. He thinks he knows who is on the other side because there’s really only one person who it could be…

“That’s a lie, Josh!”

It’s CJ. Josh cringes, and sits down in his chair, staring fretfully at the doorknob. Lyman men don’t shy away from confrontation. They man up. _Man up, Josh_.

“I’ve got someone here who wants to talk to you.” CJ’s voice is softer, gentler. “So open the damn door.”

Josh unlocks the door. CJ opens it and there, hands tucked into his pocket, is Sam.

“I could go…?” he offers.

“No. Sit down,” Josh says. He hovers, watching Sam sit and doesn’t notice CJ leaving, a small smile on her face.

“How are you?”

“Fine. I’m good,” Sam says. His eyes are lying behind his glasses.

“Yeah. I am too.”

“How is it going with Jamieson?”

“It’s good.”

“That’s good.”

They both fall silent. God, they can’t even have an articulate conversation. Sam looks to his right, a nervously thoughtful expression on his face. Josh, naturally, turns the other way. His eyes fall upon his photo of him and his grandfather and his heart clenches a little.

“Damage control is done,” says Sam finally. There’s an edge to his voice that confuses Josh because he’s not accustomed to hearing it directed at him.

“Yeah?” he replies warily. “It is?”

Sam nods, mutely.

Josh sinks into his chair, relaxing entirely. He’s not going to lose his job. _He’s not going to lose his job._

“We’re not going to talk about it?" asks Sam. "It’s closed?”

“Yeah.”

Sam gets a very familiar mulish set to his face. Josh loves it when Sam looks like that because it usually means that someone’s going to be ripped to shreds, and he’s going to enjoy watching Sam do it.

“It’s not closed, Josh,” says Sam.

“Why not?” Josh demands. “We have nothing else to discuss.”

“You kissed me, not the other way around.”

“It was a brotherly kiss.”

 _Which the papers happened to get a picture of,_ he adds silently. He supposes that someone—probably C.J.—got ahold of it and made sure that it never saw the light of day. Josh makes a mental note to send her flowers. 

“Right, that’s why we needed to confer with C.J. and Leo.”

“I was drunk.” Josh is using his ‘you’re an idiot’ voice, which he only generally employs on young children and Republican senators that he hates. “ _You_ were drunk.”

 _Work with me_ , Sam, he thinks desperately. _Don’t make this harder than it has to be._ Sam stares at him for a very long minute. It’s probably the longest minute of Josh’s life. Longer even than the moment before Bartlet was announced as president.

“Okay,” says Sam softly.

His eyes are even wider than they were before Josh kissed him, drunk on tequila and desperately lonely. He looks like he’s figured something out for himself. Good for him. Josh is still really fucking confused.

“That’s all I needed to hear. Good-night, Josh.”

Sam stands up. Josh turns away and purposefully doesn’t watch him leave.

In the morning, they do not talk about Friday night. It is buried in the potential sex scandals graveyard of the Bartlet administration. Josh carefully makes a point of avoiding Sam for the next week, a difficult task considering they are both required to work closely with one another. C.J. delivers him a sealed envelope a couple of days later. The picture that the National Enquirer photographer took isn’t even very good. But it’s unmistakably them. He’s smiling into Sam’s mouth, and Sam looks impossibly young.

Josh shreds the picture and lights each of the pieces on fire.


End file.
